


left for dead

by nymja



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for 8x3, Tumblr fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: Jon’s frown increases. He looks like a man trying to untangle a knot. “So you’re friends?”“Good friends,” Gendry says at the same time Arya goes, “Not really.”Your brother’s going to murder me, he tries to communicate with his widened eyes and slightly parted mouth.Try harder not to be murdered, the cool rise of her eyebrows suggests.--for the prompt: Jon introduces Gendry to Arya





	left for dead

“How much can we reuse?”

Gendry matches Jon’s fast pace as they cross Winterfell’s courtyard to the battlements. He hasn’t slept in about thirty hours and he imagines it’s been longer for the King in the North. The air is thick with smoke and rot, and it’s made almost everyone’s eyes red-rimmed.

He shakes his head. “Not the steel or the dragonglass that’s going to be the problem.” He pauses long enough to eye the pyre they’re constructing for the mass funeral later. “It’s the amount of hands we have to hold them.”

Jon’s face always looks grim, but there’s a distance to his gaze now that Gendry doesn’t like. Perhaps for the first time, he’s glad to be low-born. The low-born don’t make the decisions that end up getting everyone killed.

“See what you can do for arrows and spears, then.”

“‘Course.”

They climb the steps to what’s left of the wall. And Gendry is so deep in thought that he misses the rare smile that crosses Jon’s face when they reach the top.

“Arya,” he greets, and Gendry’s head snaps up.

She’s standing next to her sister, the bloody Lady of Winterfell, and their conversation falls away as Jon approaches them. Hesitantly, Gendry follows suit, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering how this is all going to go.

Arya’s smile is for Jon, he’s not stupid enough to think otherwise, but when her eyes meet his it turns into something more like a smirk.  _That_  makes him stupid.

“Jon,” the Lady of Winterfell greets, her eyes flickering to him. “And Ser…?”

“Just Gendry.”

Jon claps him on the shoulder, addressing his sisters. “He’s the smith responsible for all the weapons. We met at Dragonstone.”

Arya folds her hands behind her back, staring expectantly, and Gendry just knows she’s going to watch him make a complete ass of himself and be happy about it.

“Winterfell thanks you,” the Lady says kindly. And then Gendry feels his stomach tie into knots as she sends him a slow look that transfers to Arya. Her eyebrow quirks, just a little, and she bows her head. “I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere.”

The Lady makes her exit, and then it’s just the three of them. Gendry looks anywhere but at the Starks, not sure what he’s supposed to be saying.

“He’s the son of Robert Baratheon,” Jon continues.

Arya tilts her head. “You don’t say.”

Jon clears his throat, as if just realizing he’s forgotten something. “My sister, Arya.”

Gendry is sure his face is bright red now. “M’lady.”

And she is definitely fighting a smile. “My Lord.”

“Not a lord.”

“And you know I’m not a lady.”

Jon’s brows draw as he looks between them. “Something the matter?”

“We’ve met,” Arya says calmly.

And Gendry thinks that this is his death, finally coming for him. “I worked with her on a staff.”

“That’s not all we worked on.”

He’s a dead man. Completely dead. He glares at Arya, who only grins.

Jon’s frown increases. He looks like a man trying to untangle a knot. “So you’re friends?”

“Good friends,” Gendry says at the same time Arya goes, “Not really.”

 _Your brother’s going to murder me_ , he tries to communicate with his widened eyes and slightly parted mouth.

 _Try harder not to be murdered_ , the cool rise of her eyebrows suggests.

The standstill feels like it lasts forever, until it’s broken by The Hound stomping past them, a hunk of debris from the wall in his hands.

“She’s fucking the twat,” he states with annoyance, shoving both Jon and Gendry apart as he makes to move past them. “You daft bloody bastard.”

The Hound leaves. Gendry’s body goes numb. Arya snorts. Jon can’t seem to move.

“You’re…what?” Jon finally manages.

Arya shrugs, turning around and walking in the same direction as The Hound.

Gendry is incapacitated. Does he run? He should run. He’s been abandoned. She abandoned him.

Jon clears his throat. The silence stretches. He should fucking run. Back to Flea Bottom, maybe. Or Essos. An island somewhere. He can row now.

“So,” Jon manages, face still in that expression of undoing a knot.

Gendry wonders if he’d survive jumping off the battlements.

“The arrows,” Jon finally settles on, looking very pale.

“Arrows.” Gendry intones. “Right. Arrows.”

“Right. Go…make some.”

“Right.”

Jon shakes his head, clearly unable to process what he’s just heard, and then the King of the North walks away much faster than he was walking before.

Gendry can’t help the small, strangled laugh that escapes him as he looks up at the sky.

“Fuck.”


End file.
